


There Are Monsters That Live In Your Head

by BeckWeeps



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid
Genre: Anxious Howard Goodman, Because I am autistic and I deserve this lol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Autistic Howard Goodman, McNamara is my goddamn fave person, Panic Attacks, This came from a sugar high and my crippling anxiety, again sugar high exhaustion and anxiety, and I love Howard he deserves the world, and thats on Easter and government assigned lockdown, enjoy anyway though if you read this, honestly, yes i know this is disjointed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:34:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23623210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeckWeeps/pseuds/BeckWeeps
Summary: Listen. I just love Howard Goodman and me and my siblings agreed he needed some damb angst so this happened.Its just a thousand words of Howard angst and barely any plot
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	There Are Monsters That Live In Your Head

For the first time all day, Howard was alone in his office. After the whole Black Friday incident it was all Howard could manage not to fall apart. How could he do this job if one small incident had him blundering to a near fatal extreme.   
If John hadn’t survived the Black and White, warning not to deploy the nuke...well it would have been a catastrophic disaster. 

He really fucked it up.

He buried his face in his hands, trying to smother the memories. He shook. “Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Jesus Christ Howard fucking breathe. How are you President if you’re falling apart like this?” Howard furiously whispered to himself before standing abruptly, chair falling to the ground with a loud bang. He jumped, startled by the sound.

As he paced around the office, he tapped the heels of his hands together, the repetitive motion calming him somewhat. He was spiralling.   
Even before becoming President or hell - even getting involved in politics - back when he was just a scared teen with too many troubles weighing on his shoulders, Howard’s anxiety frequently got the best of him. Over the years he had learnt to mask it more - out of necessity rather than anything else.

But now that he was alone, Howard was falling apart. Too much pressure. Too many decisions. How can he do the best for his country, for the people who believed in him and relied on him. How can he do his job if he crumbles under any pressure? If he spirals into endless panic attacks after the slightest problem. Was he doing the right thing?

Fuck he couldn’t breathe.

He slumped against the wall, slowly sliding down onto the floor. He was failing. He was going to screw this up. Howard wasn’t right for this. His breaths came quicker and quicker, unsteady frantic gasps for air.  
Once again he buried his face in his hands, shaking fingers pulling harshly at his hair as he tried to ground himself. Almost inaudibly, his voice unsteady and weak, he muttered to himself repetitive numbers over and over.

“One two three four five six seven eight one two three four five six seven one two three four five six one two three four five one two three four one two three one two one.” 

Finally his breathing began to steady. Howard had learned over time that no one would be around to talk him down from his anxious thoughts and panic attacks. He was the only one who would take care of himself. No one else would. 

He kept counting.

“Howard? Howie. Why are you on the floor? Why are you counting?”

Howard jumped. He had not heard the door open. How did he not hear it open? He moved his hands back down and forced his face into some semblance of normality. It was John. That explains why Howard didn’t hear him enter. The General was too quiet for his own good. 

He looked up and jumped again, scrambling back and curling more into himself, his back pressed tight against the wall. John was right in front of him, crouched on the carpet with his face plastered in worry. 

“John! You scared the life out of me!” Howard straightened out, suddenly realising how undignified he looked. He was President for heaven's sake. He wasn’t a permanently terrified fifteen year old anymore. He rolled his shoulders back and pulled on a smile.

“I did knock, you didn’t answer though and I thought something was wrong. Apologies for scaring you Mr President.” John winked, his eyes still concerned. “I’m glad I walked in though, are you okay? You looked...uneasy”

“I’m fine John, I’m perfectly fine. There is no need to worry. Come, let’s move to my sofa, it’ll be comfier while we talk about your purpose for being here John.” Howard stood, using the wall as a support, and reached a hand down to pull John up.

Ten minutes later, the two men were in Howard’s personal rooms, John with a cup of coffee, and Howard with a glass of ice water - he could not afford caffeine increasing his already high anxiety levels. 

“I was simply coming to extend an invite to you, we need to rely on your Presidential abilities of negotiation once again. There is -”

Howard’s glass shatters on the wooden floor. His trembling hands clenched into fists to hide the shaking. He laughs but it is thin and weak, laced with fear. 

“Oh fuck sorry John. Give me five minutes to go get a cloth and then I can...I can. Yes.” He stands, but John’s hand wraps around his wrist and tugs him back onto the soft sofa.

“Howard...Howie. Breathe. What were you doing earlier with the counting? Could you show me, I feel like it could help Xander when he gets stressed.” Howard shakes his head, but complied, whispering his numbers and gradually getting louder. 

His chest hurt.

He couldn’t breathe.

He would fail John. 

He would fail PEIP.

He would fail his country. 

Howard wished he had never done this. 

“Howard. Come on, breathe goddammit. You can do this. It’s alright.” John gently squeezed Howard’s hands, encouraging his frantic repetition of numbers. Howard squeezed back.

“One two three four five six seven eight one two three four five six seven one two three four five six one two three four five one two three four one two three one two one.” Over and over.

His breathing steadied.

“I’m going to let you down John. I’m no good at this. I crumble under pressure too easily. You saw me when dealing with Wiggly, I fell apart in there John! I failed you! I failed everyone!” Howard paused then whispered, almost inaudibly, “I should have stuck to just being a Mayor. Or hell. Maybe I should have listened and just taught instead.”

“Howard. Wiggly was an incredibly unusual specimen. Not even I was able to treat with him. You did not fail me or anybody else. I am asking you to do this because I know that you can find the words to successfully negotiate with these otherworldly beings. You have a unique authority. I won’t make you of course, but if you chose to help we would all be grateful. We need you Howard.”

John’s words finally helped Howard to fully calm down. Slowly and unsurely, Howard nodded. Then, he nodded again, more certain this time.

“I’ll do it. You can rely on me John. I swear I won’t let you down again.”  
“I apologise for causing more panic Howard, especially after you had only just escaped a panic attack when I arrived. On behalf of PEIP and indeed the entirety of the United States of America though, thank you for choosing to help us once again.” John grinned, lopsided, his eyes bright. He squeezed Howard’s hands one final time before letting go.   
“And Howard? You are most certainly the best President, others have never dealt with these kinds of situations as you have. It is an honour to have you helping us.”

If anyone had walked into the room only moments later, they would have seen John and Howard hugging, a tight strong hug. Who initiated it is uncertain, but it relaxed the final layers of tension and fear from Howard’s body and left John with a fond smile.


End file.
